Raisins
by WhatATragicComedy
Summary: JS Jack O'Neill had seen a lot of strange sights in his time. But, this, by far, took the cake.


Set after canon. Jack and Sam are married. His observations of her.

Don't own anything to do with the show. Yada yada ya.

Oh, and I've got a vague idea on how Jack decides to get her off the whole...well mood she's in. (Don't want to spoil it by saying any more there.) But, anyway, I'm not exactly sure what to do. If you think of something funny or whatnot that you would like to see Jack do in this scenerio, drop me a line.

One more thing, reviews. Love them. I hang my head a little that I ask for reviews now but I really do like to get feedback so if you feel it's worthy of one, I'd really love it.

Now on with the story.

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Now this was a strange sight. And Jack O'Neill had seen alot of strange sights in his life. Some of them involving the woman in front of him. Like she had this habit of taking things apart in a million tiny pieces and putting them back together again; mundane things like the vacuum cleaner or the toaster. If they weren't working quite as well as she expected, they were immediately dismantled and looked upon like an alien doohickey that needed vast analysis.

She also had a habit of writing on things. They could be having a conversation about anything and all the sudden, she would whip a pen out of nowhere and start writing equations on the first available surface. Take out boxes were never safe. Once she'd even started writing on the steamed up shower door. Jack was still a little touchy about that one.

Here they were, gloriously naked, in the shower, making out no less, when she has a 'breakthrough' and starts writing jibberish on the door. When he pointed out how _wrong_ that was (he was not whining! Generals do not whine), she said that it was something _he_ had said that made her think of it. Jack decided right then and there that he wasn't allowed to talk in or around any time in which sex was involved.

But back to the present. Jack was standing in the door of the bathroom watching his wife. Said wife was currently as close to the mirror as physically possible without touching it, with a magnifying glass above her head, raking her fingers through her hair. He was sure there was a logical explanation for this somewhere. Really! Somewhere. Maybe she was trying to do an experiment. Like seeing if a magnifying glass could burn her hair with artificial light or...something.

"Saaaamm, whatcha doing?"

Not looking away from her scrutiny, she replied matter-of-factly, "I'm looking for gray hairs."

_With a magnifying glass?_ "Don't you think you're being a little...overzealous there?"

Ignoring his question, she gasped, pulling out one of her hairs. "Oh my god, it's another one!"

She had officially lost her mind. He'd always heard that there was a fine line between genius and insanity and Sam was the most super genius of them all.

Only half seriously, Jack questioned, "Sam, should I be worried?"

Her fingers stopped just above another erroneous hair, looking in the mirror at Jack to say, "What?", before quickly turning around to face him.

"Jack, I've found four gray hairs!" She held four fingers up for emphasis. Sighing, she said, "I'm officially old."

He snorted. "Last time I checked, I was fifteen years older than you."

"Sixteen."

"What?"

"You're sixteen years older than me. Don't make me older than I already am." Pausing, with a slightly horrified look on her face, Sam groaned, "Oh god, next year I'll probably be completely gray."

Looking at his own now virtually white hair in the mirror, Jack mumbled/whined/complained, "Way to make a guy feel decrepit."

Sam looked at him out the side of her eyes from where she was leaning on the sink and said, "Oh please. Men are like a fine wine. They just get better with age."

"Yes. Nursing homes are all the rage."

This got him a glare. "I'm serious."

"Name one."

"One what?"

"Guy who's gotten better with age."

"Other than you?"

Darn the smugness. Couldn't help but smirk at that one.

"Sean Connery."

"He's in his 70's."

"Exactly. He's hotter now than he was as James Bond."

Jack shook his head. Women were weird.

Glaring at the door as if it was somehow responsible for her newfound 'oldness', Sam continued, "Women, though. We're like grapes."

_Grapes? _

"We start out all nice and delicious but then you leave us out in the sun too long and we get all old and wrinkly. I'm turning into a raisin."

Yep, bonzo. She'd definitely gone off her rocker.

How does someone even reply to that? There was probably a book out there somewhere, like _Explaining Women For Dummies_, where there was a chapter dedicated to when your wife compares herself to a fruit.

Seeing as how Jack was not the owner of such a book, he said the first thing he could think of.

"I like raisins."

A simultaneous groan and eye roll, followed by her turning back to the sink and muttering something about him going to watch the game or it could have been 'men are such a pain', informed him that that had not been the correct answer. Admitting defeat for now, Jack went downstairs to seek solace from his cookoo bananas wife.


End file.
